Coffee Bean
by youre-a-toaster
Summary: His parents love him, they really do, but there comes a point in life where he needs to stand on his own two feet. Blaine desperately clings to his job as a barista at Java the Hutt or else he's getting financially cut off by his parents. Goodbye freedom, hello Kurt. You're in for a latte laughs.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I need to stop this, it's a disease! I was on Tumblr and saw a funny picture and then I got inspired and then this happened..._

* * *

**Chapter 1**

* * *

Blaine was running late. Like, really, really late. As in _'Shit, I need to get from SoHo to West 72__nd__ in twenty minutes'_ kind of late. He ran like a madman around the loft he shared with his two best friends – his two best friends who _conveniently_ unplugged his alarm to set up a new sound system the night before.

"Shit!" he yelled to himself as he tripped over the pant leg he was attempting to slide on at the same time his arm fished through the head hole of his shirt. He took a couple of seconds to readjust his clothes before sliding on a pair of worn-out shoes and springing out the door.

"'Scuse me, 'scuse me, scuse me," he chanted, practically soaring down the twenty-billion flights of stairs and pushing random loiterers to the side.

His phone buzzed and he delved into his pocket to pull it out swiftly. He saw the caller ID and answered instantly.

"You're an asshole!" Blaine yelled down the line accusingly. He reached the lobby and sprinted outside, throwing himself in the right direction.

"Carl's gone on break so you've got twenty minutes, tops," Sam reported from the other end. "Where are you?"

"Running!" Blaine wheezed.

"Good! Run, run, run, run, ru–"

Blaine cut him off and slid his phone back in his pocket. _Run, run, run!_

He got to 6th and felt like his heart was going to implode, he doubled over, running in bursts at the same time as he tried to hail a cab. Eventually one pulled over and he flung himself in, feeling only a little bit sorry for the old lady hailing one too – she would probably have more time than him on this planet if he was late again, anyway. He panted the address to the driver and he pulled away from the curb far-too-fucking-slowly.

"Listen," Blaine said, leaning forward towards him. "I will pay you double if you can get me there in fifteen minutes."

He saw the driver nod and press his foot down on the acceleration; Blaine let himself relax into the back seat.

It wasn't fair. None of it was. Blaine didn't even want to move into that bloody apartment, it was only because his parent's refused to have a son living in the cheap part of New York – not that there really _was_ a cheap part of New York. And of course they offered to pay for the rent and pay for this and pay for that, only to turn around three months later and threaten to cut him off from their cards unless he pulled his act together. But his act _was_ pulled together. It was hardly his fault he worked twice the time he did back in Ohio for half the money. And between his serving coffee and any gigs he could get his hands on – unpaid or not – as well as his lectures and the remains of his almost non-existent social life, there just wasn't any time. Even when Sam moved in with his job as a Boyfriend for Hire, and Rachel with her off-off-Broadway shows, and even when Blaine managed to get them both shifts at the coffee house, it still wasn't enough to cover half the rent. They were screwed.

"Here will do," Blaine said, noticing the queue of traffic ahead and realising it would be quicker to run. He jumped out and handed the driver all that was left of his busking money before taking off at a sprint.

He was almost there – just a little farther. Almost... _Almost_... He skidded to a halt outside Java the Hutt and fell through the door. As soon as Sam saw him, he swiped him in.

"Yes!" Blaine screamed, making the two patrons they had jump in fright. He fist pumped the air and ignored his disgusting sweat patches. "Is Carl back yet?" he asked, sliding over the counter. He threw his apron on in a feeble attempt to make himself more presentable.

"Not ye–"

"You're late," the John Stamos lookalike accused while walking through the door.

"How!?" Blaine conceded, throwing his hands out in defeat. "How could you possibly know that?"

"You ran past me..."

Sam shared a look with Blaine as if to say 'you tried', before apologetically turning away to clean the coffee filter.

"Carl, please," Blaine begged, following him through to the back office.

"What happened this time, Blaine?" Carl asked; all business as he sat down at his desk – why he needed a desk was beyond him. "Hmm? Cat have the hiccups again? Line too long at Starbucks? Your watch was set to Tokyo time? Jehovah's Witnesses wouldn't leave?"

Blaine pointed a finger defensively, "That one was true."

"Dammit, Blaine!" Carl stressed. "You're a good kid, you really are. But just once – just _once_ – could you be on time?"

Blaine waited in silence until the majority of Carl's anger had dissipated. "You know," Blaine said carefully. "Considering the time I left, I got here in record spee– No? Okay..."

Carl shook his head slowly with a face that could freeze Medusa.

"Just..." Carl trailed off, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Go help Sam out front. I need to think of a forfeit for you."

Blaine groaned but quickly shut up when Carl glared at him. It could be worse, he thought, at least it didn't look like he was getting fired. Not today, anyway.

* * *

If, as a child, someone had told him that when he turned twenty-one he'd be working at a Star Wars themed coffee shop, Blaine would have thought it was the best thing on the planet. But turning into said twenty-one year old, he realised it most definitely wasn't. Especially working in a Star Wars themed coffee shop that wasn't allowed to get popular for fear of being sued – something Carl didn't think through when he set the place up. Even _that_ he could deal with, but all that with the added bonus of forfeits was just too much.

Blaine leaned lazily against the counter, waiting for Sam to finish serving a customer so they could continue their conversation about random nonsense. Blaine turned it into a two-man job and helped by pouring the coffee into a cardboard cup while Sam took the money.

The customer turned away with his coffee before taking a sip and making a noise of disgust. "Jesus Christ!" he exclaimed. "This... It tastes like dirt!"

Blaine snickered as he seized the perfect opportunity to start his forfeit. "Well, it was only _ground_ a minute ago."

The man looked at Blaine indignantly and stormed away, mumbling something about unprofessionalism. Maybe there wasn't any reason to fear prosecution from being popular, anyway...

"Puns?" Sam laughed. "That's your forfeit? _Puns?_"

Blaine shrugged and rolled his eyes. "Oh my god, why is she here?" Blaine asked, standing up and frowning at the woman who walked through the door. "Your shift just finished, why the hell are you back?" he said louder.

Rachel slumped over the counter and sighed.

Inspiration struck again. "What's wrong, Rach?" Blaine asked kindly. "_Espresso_ your feelings..." Rachel looked up and frowned. Sam just shook his head in pity. "We won't _mocha_ you," Blaine laughed. He laughed harder when he thought of another one: "Sorry, I'm just _tea_-sing."

"How many is that?" Carl called from around the corner.

"Four," Blaine called back.

"Keep going."

Blaine rolled his eyes.

"What's this?" Rachel asked Sam, her eyebrows knitting together.

"He was late," Sam explained. ("_Latte_," Blaine corrected.) Rachel grimaced in pity. "But how comes you're back here?" he asked. "I thought you had rehearsals."

"Yeah... Well, I got a paid offer, so you know..."

Blaine looked up and puckered his brow, "But Broadway–"

"I wasn't getting paid for it," Rachel said simply. "We need the money. And hey, it's not too bad," – forever the optimistic – "This one's a lead role."

"Yeah, in some back alley production–" Blaine retorted, earning a sharp elbow jab from Sam. "Rachel, phone them back," Blaine insisted, ignoring Sam. "I can cover you this month, just... Don't throw it away! Who needs electricity anyway?"

"Blaine..."

"Call them–"

"I–"

"Call them–"

"But–"

"Call them–"

"You–"

"Call. Them." Blaine stressed.

Rachel opened her mouth and Blaine made a nonsensical noise. She raised an eyebrow before relaxing into a smile. "Thank you," she said sincerely.

He was about to say something but for the life of him, he couldn't remember. "Oh, Jesus, he's here again..."

Sam looked around, confused.

"No one comes back here, why would he come back here?" Blaine asked himself.

Rachel turned to look behind her, "Blaine, Who–"

"Shh!" Blaine snapped, pulling her head back round to face him as the bell over the door chimed.

"Is that the guy you were drooling over the other day?" Sam asked incredulously.

"I wanna see!" Rachel whispered.

Blaine looked over casually as the guy took a seat. He caught his eye for a moment and Blaine skimmed away quickly. He glanced across again an instant later and was put in the awkward situation when they both locked eyes for a second time. Blaine slowly offered a smile which the other guy mirrored before turning away to sit facing the window.

"What the fuck was that?" Sam breathed in a laugh.

Rachel chanced a look at him. "Pwarh, get in, Blaine," she said lowly, turning back.

"He can't possibly like the coffee," Blaine remarked under his breath.

"No one does."

"Which means–"

"Why are we whispering?" Carl asked, making the three of them jump.

"A warning would be nice," Blaine stated sassily, pushing away from the counter.

Sam pushed the coffee jug into Blaine's hand along with a mug and lifted the counter door up to let him past, giving him a pat on the back in encouragement. Blaine walked and stood awkwardly by Hot Customer Guy's chair before clearing his throat softly. He looked up at Blaine and Blaine had to bite his tongue to stop the rush of involuntary, inhuman noises he was bound to make otherwise. He must be wearing contact lenses; no one's eyes were actually that beautiful.

"Coffee?" Blaine asked a little too loudly. He lifted the coffee jug in clarification.

"Um. Yes, please. Thank you..."

Blaine looked over to Sam and Rachel for some sort of moral support, Rachel just made a pointed look and mimed pouring coffee. It didn't help that Carl was still stood there, probably finding his hopelessness amusing.

"Actually, do you have tea?" he asked before Blaine had the chance to pour his drink.

"Yeah, it'll take a moment–"

"Actually," he repeated, standing up. "I better get going. I didn't... But yeah... "

Blaine frowned and looked to Rachel and Sam for help. They just shrugged. Carl, however, gave him a very deliberate look.

"See you latte," Blaine said, hating himself a little bit as Hot Customer Guy walked out the door.

Blaine saw him smile as he walked past the window.

"Okay, what just happened?" Sam asked.

* * *

_A/N: This is un-betad because I was too excited to just leave it in my documents. Also, I've only been to New York twice, so I'm basing this off my memories as well as Googling like a maniac. So if there are any errors or gaping plot holes, tell me and I'll sort them out :)_

_Hope you're _breve_ enough to review._

_COFFEE PUNS WILL BE THE END OF ME._


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Cabin Pressure references ftw!_

* * *

**Chapter 2**

* * *

_Today your barista is:_

_Bored._

_For your drink today I recommend:_

_You go to one of the other 500 coffee shops in this beautiful city, because this place is a hole..._

* * *

"There you go, nice hot cup of coffee," Rachel announced, handing a cardboard cup over the counter and taking the balding man's money.

"It's cold," he said, his face screwed in disgust as he took a sip.

"Nice cup of coffee," Rachel restated.

"It's horrible..."

"Cup of coffee."

"I'm not even sure this _is_ coffee."

"Cup..."

The middle aged mad glared at the baristas before turning on his heels and storming out the dingy coffee house, muttering to himself about how he should expect nothing more in a place like that.

"And they never saw a living customer again," Blaine narrated.

Rachel laughed and playfully slapped his arm. "How excited are you for the day we can just walk out of this place?" she asked wistfully.

Blaine hummed in longing. "But until that day..." he sighed.

"Just think about it, though," Rachel continued cheekily. "Hanging up this crappy apron; telling Carl to go fuck himself. How good would that feel?"

"Very good," Blaine agreed. "But unless we win the lottery or marry a millionaire, I think we're stuck here for a while."

Rachel exhaled and slumped her shoulders down to rest on the counter while she played absentmindedly with some drink stirrers. "It's still a nice thought," she mused.

"Speaking of," Blaine perked up, "If we close up early you can come with me to the bar."

"Ooh! What are you playing?" she wondered, sitting up in interest.

"_Ain't No Sunshine_," he responded which earned an encouraging comment from Rachel. "_Hit Me Baby_–"

"Really?" she asked dubiously.

"Trust, it's good."

"Alright," she laughed. "What else?"

"_Can't Take My Eyes Off You_."

"Good."

"_Your Song_, _Roxanne_ and I'm finishing off with _Sunday Morning_."

"Good selection," she grinned before her face fell, "Oh but we can't close up early... Carl..."

Blaine took a dramatic intake of breath through gritted teeth. "Ah man," he groaned. "Yeah, we can't close up. Think of all the revenue we'll miss..."

Their serious composure only lasted a couple of seconds before they both broke the façade and burst into a round of laughter.

"Can you imagine if it was like that?" Blaine chuckled.

Rachel wiped a stray tear from under her eye and reached for the keys. "I know, right?"

* * *

"Whaddya think, eh?" Sam asked, adjusting his shirt and striking a pose in front of Blaine.

Blaine glanced up and took in his ridiculousness. "Nope."

"What's wrong with this?"

"What's wro–?" Blaine swatted at the bolo tie around his neck and the strings flicked Sam in the face. "What even is that?"

"Hey, don't hate the tie. Bruce Springsteen rocked one of these for Tunnel of Love."

"I promise you, if you wear that outside, you won't be rocking anyone's love tunnel."

Sam looked torn between offended and amused; eventually he smiled and gave Blaine a high five. "Nice play on words," he admitted.

"You guys ready?" Rachel asked as she stepped outside her room, pressing in an earring and slipping her shoes on.

"Almost, Sam just needs to get dressed," Blaine replied pointedly.

Rachel frowned at Sam's neck and pulled the offending tie off before he could argue any longer.

"Ready?" she repeated.

"Ready."

* * *

Blaine loved New York, it was the place he dreamed his dreams would come true. He yearned for the day he would be walking through the bustling city and someone would stop him and say, _"Hey, you're Blaine Anderson, right? I saw you playing on Fourth, you were awesome."_ Of course, that hadn't happened just yet. Although once or twice he would get stopped and someone would say _"Hey, you're that barista at that shit Star Wars coffee place, right?"_ It just wasn't the same.

Rachel linked arms with him and Sam, using them both as wind protectors against the stinging November air as they made their way to the small bar Blaine was playing at.

"Can't we get a taxi?" Sam whined as his teeth began to chatter.

"No," Blaine said firmly. "Man up. It's a ten minute walk, besides you should've brought a coat so it's your own fault." Even as he said that he felt like the hand holding his guitar case was about to thaw off.

They all sighed happily when they eventually entered the warmth of the familiar venue. The manager, Will, was there to greet them as they entered. He pulled Blaine into a one arm hug and took their coats.

"Good to see you again, Blaine," Will smiled. "You haven't been here in a while."

Blaine mumbled an apology and took in the sight of the almost-full house. He was proud to say he could pull in a crowd quite a lot bigger than any of the other regular musicians. Sam and Rachel quickly left him alone and went off in search for a spare table before not finding any and settling down with two other guys.

"So what have you got planned for us?" Will asked.

Blaine pulled out the crumpled piece of paper form his back pocket and watched as Will unfolded it with excitement.

"Good... Good," he said, Blaine watched his eyes roam down his song list. "Great," he grinned. Blaine smiled in relief and followed Will as he was ushered onto the small stage. "Whenever you're ready," Will assured, turning on his heels and heading back to man the bar.

As Blaine started to set up, he looked to Rachel for his usual moral support. She caught his eye and grinned – slightly more enthusiastic than usual. He noticed Sam pursing his lips to hold back a laugh and that's when he noticed who they were sitting next to.

"No," Blaine mouthed as Rachel pointed slyly to Hot Customer Guy.

Sam made some crude gestures and Blaine blushed. Okay, so maybe his crush on the stranger hadn't been completely subtle, and once or twice at night Blaine would... You know... But it wasn't like he ever expected to actually run into him again. Blaine shot a warning glance at Sam and he quickly stopped, holding his hands up in surrender and pursing his lips again. His stomach did awkward backflips as Customer Guy and his tall... Date? – God, he hoped not – turned to talk to Sam and Rachel. It wasn't fair; Blaine wanted to be the one talking to him.

He made some final adjustments to his guitar before putting the strap over his neck and stepping towards to microphone. He nodded at Will, who gently dimmed the lights, leaving him illuminated. The effect was almost instantaneous: everyone quickly hushed and waited for him to start. He felt a swell of emotion as he realised _they're here for me_.

Blaine began playing a few notes and settling into the riff as he introduced himself. "I'm Blaine Anderson. Some of you know me already, but I see a few new faces so... hey, hope you enjoy the show." He gave the crowd his signature smirk and saw Rachel in the corner of his eye putting a thumb up in reassurance.

* * *

He played the final note and let it hang in the air before the tightly knit audience burst into applause. He grinned and said a final goodbye as Will turned the house lights back up and he began to pack away. There was already a throng of people – well, _women_ – waiting at the edge of the shoddy stage clutching pieces of paper with hastily written names and numbers. Blaine politely told them he was gay and that he wasn't interest and watched as they turned on their disappointed feet and trudged away.

No, there was only one person in the crowd he was particularly interested in. As he put his own spin on the selection of songs he played through the evening his audience would smile and cheer and laugh and swoon but Blaine only paid attention to _him_. Subtly, of course, I mean, he didn't want to look like a stalker. But he would take notice of the tapping of his foot and the small nodding of his head and the curving of his lips and the slight hitch of his breathing and the dilation of his pupils and the noises he would make and just... fuck. Maybe Blaine had begun to trail his mind into slightly different thoughts but the point stood the same.

"Hey," Sam said as he and Rachel came over, Rachel offered Blaine a drink and he accepted graciously. "He just left," Sam added.

Blaine stopped scanning the audience. "Who?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

Sam just rolled his eyes. "And it was his brother, by the way."

Blaine nodded tightly, trying to hide his delight; Sam simply laughed and reached out to pat his shoulder.

Will made his way to them through the thinning crowd and placed and envelope in Blaine's hand. "You were brilliant," he praised, "Everyone loved you. You'll be back next week, right?"

Blaine slid the money into his pocket and smiled. "Absolutely."

The three of them finished their drinks and made their way outside. Blaine politely accepted the tips people slid in his hand and he thanked them kindly. He didn't even complain when Rachel and Sam begged to get a cab home as the cold air froze in their lungs. They quickly hailed one and got back to the loft as soon as possible, Blaine was glad because he had a slight problem at hand. Nothing a nice long shower couldn't fix.

* * *

_A/N: I am absolatte loving writing this :') (That was a very poor attempt to make up for the lack of coffee puns)_

_No, but I was really excited about the story so yesterday I attempted to make a manip, but it was just so bad I don't think it's ever going to see the light of day. If only there were people talented and willing who I could love for eternity... Sigh. (hurr hurr)_

_Also, Blaine your Darren is showing. Shhh..._

_Reviews = Espresso shots._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

* * *

_Today your barista is: _

_Hella fucking gay & desperately single._

_For your drink today I recommend:_

_You give me your number._

* * *

Blaine choked on the biscotti he'd snuck from the shelf. He thumped his chest harshly and his eyes watered as he attempted to get it dislodged from his throat.

"Excuse me?" he exclaimed when he could finally breathe again, no thanks to Sam.

"I _said_: when was the last time you got laid?" Sam repeated slowly. "Because you're starting to revert to a blushing virgin and it's sickening."

"I'm... That's not even... I won't dignify that question with an answer."

"Roughly translated to: not for at least two months," he clarified.

Blaine made a juvenile mimicking noise in the back of his throat, immaturely pulling a face and taking another (more careful) bite of biscotti.

"Hey, Carl," Sam called and Carl appeared from around the corner. "Do you, or do you not think Blaine needs a good lay?"

"Why does this need a second opin–"

"I do think," Carl agreed, cutting off Blaine's feeble protest about the privacy of his sex life. "I also think he needs to know that that biscotti he's trying to hide behind his back is coming out of his pay check."

"What are you talking about?" Blaine objected, ignoring the crumbs on his shirt.

Carl just rolled his eyes and shook his head before turning back into his office.

"And for your information I had sex last week," Blaine insisted, crossly poking Sam's chest.

"Your hand doesn't count–"

"Why am I even friends with you?" he sighed, resigning himself to throw the remains of his biscotti in the general direction of Sam's face.

"Because despite your whining, you love me and my bullshit," Sam countered in a sing-song voice catching the food before it could do any damage and wolfing it down. He brushed Blaine's hand away and turned back to cleaning the practically spotless counter.

"You're such a dick..." Blaine responded lamely, choosing to politely ignore any more of his best friend's obsessive, invasive questioning as he turned back to his own appointed task. He began the routine cleansing of the coffee machine, scrubbing and scouring until the stains looked marginally less blemished.

"Just... Out of curiosity–"

"Oh for f–"

"Just like... nod if I get close," Sam pleaded.

"Why are you so–"

"One week? Two weeks? Three weeks?" Blaine threw the dishtowel in the sink and jumped over the counter, busying himself by cleaning the empty tables as Sam insistently pressed on: "A month? Two months, _three_ months?" he asked incredulously.

"I'm not having this conversation," Blaine shrilled, waving a half-empty cup around and sloshing the contents on the floor.

"Enlighten me, I'm curious," he whined.

"Do you, like, major in Gossip or something? Why do you care so much?"

"I'm just trying to look out for my friend. Be a good wingman, y'know?"

"I don't need a wingman, okay?"

"Help me help you!"

"For f–"

"I can be the Goose to your Maverick."

"I don't–"

"Like, just point to a guy, and I will get him for you–"

"This is ridic–"

"Just give 'em the old hook and reel–"

"I'm not ev–"

"I'll be like Han Solo–"

"That literally ma–"

"We'll be unstoppable. Like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid–"

"Well, they both die–"

"Just tell me!"

"Four months!" Blaine yelled finally.

Sam's eyes widened and he took an involuntary step back.

"Jesus Christ," Carl drawled, rounding the corner and leaning on the doorframe. "I'm married and even my dry-spells don't last that long."

Blaine groaned in embarrassment. "It's not like... I mean, I've had offers. I just... You know?"

"Not really, I don't trust anyone who turns down voluntary sex."

Blaine rolled his head on his shoulders and hung it forward pathetically.

"How have you not died?"

Blaine raised an eyebrow at Sam's question and the other man whistled lowly in reply.

"How is your arm not in a cast?" he rephrased.

"Why are you so crude?" Blaine snapped.

Sam held his hands up defensively with a smirk playing on his lips as the bell above the door chimed, letting them know they had a customer.

"Well, I hate to break up the party," Carl said, throwing a set of keys to Blaine, "But Sam and I are free to go, so enjoy your evening of closing."

Blaine glared at them both as they left the premises in record speed, most likely laughing together at his expense.

The new customer cleared his throat quietly and Blaine grudgingly turned.

"Yes?" he clipped before taking notice of who it was and instantly regretting his tone. "I mean... yes?" he repeated in what he hoped was a more alluring way.

Hot Customer Guy stood before him and smiled. "Bad time?"

Blaine scrunched up his face and let out a laugh which turned into a groan. He shook his head. "How can I be of service?"

The attractive man hummed and scanned his eyes over the menus behind the counter. "What's good?"

"Nothing," Blaine answered honestly. He noticed something of disappointment in the man's eyes and he quickly added: "I mean, some people compliment the cappuccino, but to me it tastes more like a crappuccino..."

His lips twitched up and Blaine heard him give a breathy laugh.

"I'd probably say a green tea; because there aren't many ways I can ruin that," Blaine assured.

"Unless you add milk," the customer countered with a smirk.

Blaine pursed his lips and frowned dramatically. "There's only _one_ way I can ruin that," he corrected, raising his eyebrows and breaking into a smile.

Hot Customer Guy let out a tuneful laugh and beamed widely. "I'll have the green tea then, please," he said, reaching for his wallet.

Blaine waved a hand, "It's on me," he insisted.

The customer looked down bashfully and bit his lip to hide his ever-growing smile. "Thank you very much."

Blaine would be damned if he didn't make the best green tea he'd ever made in his life. He was sure the Queen of England would be proud of how he handled the situation. He poured, he waited, he filtered, he served – the one thing he didn't do was turn and ask the man his damn name. He couldn't help but think it would be a little weird to find out his name at that point, seeing as in Blaine's mind they'd already gotten to third base. But he still felt the niggling hope that maybe it was destiny that kept bringing them together, and who was he to defy destiny?

"What time do you close?" Hot Customer Guy asked, leaning forward on the counter. "Your sign wasn't very clear," he laughed.

Blaine rolled his eyes and sighed at Carl's attempt at humour with a sign that read: _Opening Times: Whenever the fuck we feel like it_.

"Another twenty minutes?" Blaine offered vaguely.

He looked like he was about to say something but the phone from Carl's office rang and cut him off. Blaine groaned; Carl himself was the only person who ever actually phoned into the office. He gave an apologetic look to the beautiful man and went round the corner to take the call.

"Oh good, you're still there," Carl said down the line.

"Of course I'm still here, where else could I be?"

"I don't know, I'm sure you'd be able to come up with something. Anyway, I just wanted to remind you to lock all the doors."

"I'm not four," Blaine declared. "I find your lack of faith disturbing!"

Carl barked a laugh which made Blaine hold the receiver a foot away from his ear for a second. "Good one! It's good because It's Star Wars and you work–"

"Ha ha ha, you know jokes aren't funny when you explain them, Carl."

"Alright, don't get your balls in a muddle. Sam's right, you do need to get laid."

"Was there any other point to this phone call?" Blaine demanded, wanting to go back out front and build up the courage to ask the stranger for a name.

"Yes, remember to lock my office and turn everything off this time. Last close you had, you left the coffee machine all night and I'm sure you don't want that docked from your pay again."

"Thanks for the warning," Blaine yawned. "Can I go now?"

"Yes, yes. See you next week, Blaine."

"Yippee," Blaine deadpanned and hung up the phone. He stretched tall and yawned again, rounding the corner. "Sorry about tha..." Blaine let his voice trail off as he realised he was left alone. "Perfect," he mumbled to himself through gritted teeth, glaring at the empty cup left on the counter from the customer.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, walking over and picking the offending object up and placing it in the sink. He walked back over and picked up the napkin, about to throw it away when something caught his eye that made him do a double-take. He unfolded it and exclaimed joyfully when he read the elegant black ink.

_Kurt x_

Followed by ten innocent digits.

"Kurt... Kurt..." Blaine repeated the name to himself, trying it out in his mouth around the empty coffee shop and clutching the napkin. He pulled his phone from the pocket of his apron and quickly typed the number in, saving it before a racoon could run into the building, viciously snatching it from his grasp or he spontaneously combusted and it was lost forever. "Kurt..." he grinned, saying it for the sake of saying it. He's not even ashamed to say he did a celebratory dance while cleaning up that night.

He was on cloud nine as he locked Carl's office and switched the coffee machine off; his did another pirouette as he shut his till and skipped over to the blackboard to wipe it off for the morning – that was when he stopped dead in his tracks.

"No!" Blaine yelled, squaring his jaw and instantly phoning number two on his speed dial.

Sam answered on the second ring. "Ah-yes?"

"You're a genuine asshole, you know that?"

He laughed down the line which just made Blaine angrier.

"Hella fucking gay?" Blaine pressed. "Desperately– _Asshole_!"

"Did it work?"

"Asshole!"

"It worked though, didn't it?"

"Doesn't make you any less of an asshole."

"So how was it?" Sam feigned swooning. "Did he stare longingly into your eyes and pronounce his undying love for you?"

"He wrote his number on a napkin."

"Saucy."

"You do realise I'm definitely punching you in the face for this?"

"Meh... You love my face too much to do any real damage," Blaine could practically hear him wink down the phone.

"No, I'm going to be there in half an hour and you're going to need an ice-pack," Blaine threatened.

"You're just making this sound kinky now."

Blaine hung up after sliding in one more mumbled curse and returned to his closing routine. It would be a long time before he admitted it, but Blaine really did have the best wingman.

* * *

_A/N: I hope my Britishness doesn't show too much :') My beta already made me change words because she had no idea what they meant._

_I thought 'whinging' was a widely used term?_

_I've got a plan together for this and the whole thing should be about 10 chapters, short and sweet by my standards, hope to see you through to the end!_

_Also, the barista sign is what inspired me to write this. It was posted on Tumblr and it came on my dash like five times. It was destiny because CoffeeKlaine is just meant to be ;)_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: It gets a little porny... Well... A lottle porny ;)_

* * *

**Chapter 4**

* * *

_Today your barista is:_

_Sick of your pining._

_For your drink today I recommend:_

_You man up._

* * *

"Have you called him?"

Blaine replaced the coffee filter for the sake of doing something. Not that he'd actually done anything worthwhile during his shift, mostly he moped around while Rachel replaced napkins and cleaned the grinders.

"No," he sighed, worrying the inside of his cheek.

Rachel looked up and knitted her eyebrows together, pursing her lips disapprovingly.

"What?" Blaine snapped self-consciously.

"Nothing," she sang, turning back to her job. "It's just... You know."

"I know what?"

"You're like..."

"Like what?" Blaine pressed.

Rachel shrugged lamely. "You're not exactly getting any younger."

"Getting any youn– Rachel, I am twenty-two years old."

"Then why are you acting like a pensioner?"

"I'm not–"

"Actually, you're right. You're not." Rachel apologised. "Because a pensioner would have realised how short life is and would have phoned him three days ago."

Blaine ground his teeth angrily. "You know, for people who claim to be my best friends, you and Sam are both complete and utter assholes."

"And that's clearly why you love us so much," she winked. Blaine groaned in embarrassment. "But just so you know," Rachel continued, "The three day thing? Doesn't work."

Blaine pursed his lips and bit at the inside of his cheek trying to come up with some sort of response, only to come up blank as he realised: _okay, maybe I am an idiot_. He fished his phone out of his apron pocket and waved it in front of his friend's face for a moment before scrolling through his contacts and holding it to his ear. Rachel leaned back and watched smugly while Blaine nodded his head along with the rings.

"Jesus Christ!" Rachel screamed when Blaine threw the phone up in the air and hit is across the room, his face a picture of panic. She watched Blaine with wide eyes as he attempted to recompose himself and act as though he hadn't just had a massive freak-out. "What the fuck was that!?"

"He answered," Blaine responded in a small voice, crossing his arms over his chest.

"That's what people do."

Blaine groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, I'm not good at this. You're good at this, Sam's good at this. But I don't just... I can't..."

His friend had already jumped over the counter and back and placed the phone firmly in his hand again.

"Stop overthinking everything," she ordered. "Just phone him – don't hang up this time – and say: _hey Kurt, did you want to go out with me sometime?_" she put on her best Blaine voice.

"Hey Kurt, did you want to go out with me sometime?" Blaine mumbled, nodding as he scrolled to find his name once more. "Hey Kurt, did you want to go out with me sometime?" He repeated as the phone rang in his ear. "Hey Kurt, did you want to–"

"Hello?"

"Hey!" Blaine said, his throat instantly closing up. He tried to cough quietly. "Hi... Kurt. Um... Did you...? This is Blaine, by the way... I was wondering... From the coffee shop, I mean... You left... napkin."

Blaine mentally punched himself in the face and let out a small squeak of panic he failed to disguise. He couldn't ignore Rachel with her mouth hanging open in disbelief at how someone could possibly be that bad at asking someone out.

"Did you want to maybe... Um..." He looked to Rachel helplessly. "Coffee?"

Rachel shook her head vigorously.

"Nope... No, not coffee... Did you want to...?"

Blaine could tell Rachel was turning to her miming side; she put of a gracious smile and rubbed her stomach.

"Pregnant?" Blaine offered uncertainly.

Rachel threw him a stricken look and waved her hands in the air, shaking her head.

"No! No... No," Blaine said quickly.

Rachel purposefully gnashed her teeth together repeatedly.

"Food!" he shouted euphorically, Rachel finally relaxed and nodded. "I mean... food? Would you like to grab some food? ...With me?" He jigged his leg as he waited for a response. "Hello?" he asked nervously.

"Yes."

"Yes?" Blaine tested doubtfully, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

"Yes," Kurt repeated with a smile in his voice. "I'd like that."

"Really?"

"Yes," Kurt laughed.

"Wow. Okay," Blaine said, drawing a blank at what to say next.

"I get off work at six, so... meet at eight?"

"Yeah," Blaine responded with enthusiasm.

"I actually have a friend who owes me a favour, if you wanted I could get us a reservation at Eleven?"

"Eleven? As in..."

"Madison Park."

"Right," Blaine said, feeling lightheaded. Who was this guy?

"I mean... Not if you don't want to... We could get pizza somewhere or..."

"No, it sounds good," Blaine assured, his voice tight as he wondered what on earth he was getting into.

"Great," he sighed in relief. "So I'll see you at eight?"

"Eight at Eleven," Blaine confirmed as casually as he could.

Kurt smiled down the phone and hung up after a quick goodbye.

Blaine let his hand hang limply to his side while he basked in what just happened.

"Did I hear that right?" Rachel asked, her expression matching his own.

"I think he's a wizard."

"Eleven? As in..."

Blaine nodded at her unasked question.

Rachel let out an impressed whistle. "You need to book at least a month in advance."

"I know."

"It's like $200 for one person."

"I know," Blaine repeated blankly. "He's a wizard!"

They both look at each other in silence, trying to get their heads around the fact that Blaine's date is either a) a billionaire, b) a top secret double agent, or c) a wizard.

"Rachel, I'm going to need to borrow some money," Blaine stated.

Rachel nodded. "And you're going to need to buy some new clothes."

* * *

Blaine was dressed to the nines as he waited outside, shivering slightly and too scared to go inside on his own. He watched as people continuously pulled up in ostentatious cars, stepping out into the cold wearing silk dresses and suits made by names you couldn't pronounce. Blaine had always thought of his family as rich, but this was ridiculous. Not even the kids he knew in private school could dream of this. He picked at imaginary lint on the suit he rushed out to buy from Macy's, happy that his faking being a tourist landed him an extra discount.

"Blaine?"

He turned around and relaxed instantly as the stunning man stepped towards him. This is all he'd wanted for the past month, not that he even knows why.

"Hey," he smiled.

Kurt grinned back. "You didn't have to wait outside, it's freezing."

"I'm fine," Blaine lied.

Kurt bit his lip to hold back a laugh and nodded towards the building. "Shall we go?"

The door was opened for them and as soon as they stepped into the warmth Kurt was treated like royalty by the Maître D'. The waiter instantly showed them to one of the more secluded tables and they both sat down elegantly. Almost immediately someone else was there filling their glasses up with expensive wine and telling them their food will be there shortly.

Blaine had to stop his jaw from hanging open. "Are you James Bond?" he frowned.

Kurt laughed, "I could tell you but then I'd have to kill you." He shook his head slowly and groaned, "It's too much, isn't it?"

"No," Blaine assured quickly. "No, not at all."

Kurt raised a perfect eyebrow at him and the corners of his mouth twitched up.

"I mean... But no."

"My boss' husband runs the place," Kurt clarified. "They often give me a table as a sort of bonus."

Blaine nodded. "For my bonus I once got a fridge magnet," he laughed.

* * *

They were on their fourth taster dish and were feeling light and joyful surrounded by good food and wine – which was a very good catalyst for conversation.

"I don't like coffee," Kurt confessed after setting down his glass. "Well..."

"You don't like _our_ coffee," Blaine clarified.

Kurt nodded with a laugh. Blaine shook his head and laughed as well.

"You keep coming back though."

"Your shop has a certain appeal."

Blaine raised an eyebrow sassily, "Is that so?"

Kurt hummed wistfully. "There's a barista I quite like the look of..."

"Hmmm?"

"Tall... blonde guy," he laughed.

Blaine playfully swatted his hand. "Terrible."

* * *

It was almost midnight before they left the restaurant, delightfully full and giddy from wine. They left with a strange electricity between them as their hands hung by their sides, barely touching but occasionally brushing together. They walked to the end of the street before they both realised they had no idea where they were going and that neither of them wanted the evening to end.

"I have a bottle of wine at my apartment..." Kurt started.

Blaine had already hailed a cab for them both.

* * *

Blaine followed Kurt into the elevator. If the marble tiled lobby was anything to go by, his apartment would be yet another surprise to make Blaine's loft look like a cave. They were silent during the ride up where they shared looks with such energy it could smother someone. Blaine wanted him, more than he'd ever wanted anyone in his life and he just knew Kurt felt the same. He was beginning to think if Kurt didn't kiss him soon he'd just end up pouncing on the man. He watched as Kurt glanced down to his lips and back to his eyes before looking away. Blaine felt like he was going to pass out, his breathing was shallow with anticipation and his pants were becoming unnaturally tight. He didn't just want Kurt anymore, he needed him.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, Blaine stood for a moment, willing his heart to slow down and admiring the show Kurt was putting on as he walked ahead, swaying his hips sinfully. Blaine gathered himself quickly and followed him round the corner. He stilled Kurt's hand as he was putting the key in the lock and spun him so his back was against the door before Blaine finally pressed their lips together. Kurt instantly melted to the touch and responded eagerly. He made Blaine release a sound he wasn't entirely sure was human as he dragged his bottom lip into his mouth and bit down gently.

"Jesus," Blaine groaned after being spun so his own back was pushed against the door and Kurt moved his leg to press against his growing excitement.

"Nope, Kurt," Kurt breathed against the shell of his ear – earning yet another delicious moan from Blaine – he fumbled with the lock and finally pushed open the door, dragging Blaine in by his tie. Blaine didn't even have time to bother taking in his surroundings, as soon as he heard the door slam shut, he latched his lips back onto Kurt's and they both made quick work of ridding their clothes. They both stumbled around the apartment before giving up trying to make their way to the bedroom and collapsing together on the plush sofa – only to then roll off and decide the floor was a much better place to execute their ministrations.

"Kurt..." Blaine couldn't even bring himself to be embarrassed by how needy he sounded.

Kurt pinned him down carefully and began working his way down Blaine's body, kissing and touching every part of him but the part that very clearly required his attention. Blaine cursed loudly and fisted roughly at the rug he was laying on when Kurt finally took him into his mouth and hollowed his cheeks. Blaine was reduced to a babbling mess while Kurt worked expertly around him. More. He still needed more. Kurt stroked up Blaine's chest and Blaine very purposefully grabbed Kurt's hand and sucked the digits into his mouth. Kurt groaned which made Blaine throw his head back in pleasure.

Kurt got the picture though – Blaine was very grateful for that – and he began to very carefully work a finger into him, quickly adding a second and then a third and twisting this way and that, making Blaine positively writhe on the floor.

"Fuck," Blaine whined, he quickly pushed Kurt away from him in the fear it would all be over too soon otherwise, only to grab his chin and quickly press their lips together. Blaine sucked Kurt's tongue into his mouth, almost completely losing it when he realised he could taste himself.

Kurt kissed him deeply and Blaine let his mind wonder away and try to ignore the pressing pain caused by Kurt as he carefully tried to situate himself. He gasped and arched his back off the floor when Kurt slowly thrust inside; he waited until Blaine relaxed and leaned into him happily before working up a pace.

Blaine had never done this before. Well, he'd done this, but never before with such spontaneity. He never would have believed Hot Customer Guy would take him home after a first date and then spend the rest of the night gently fucking into him. No, never. But Kurt wasn't like anyone he's ever been with before. He was new and exciting, he was enigmatic and chivalrous and beautiful. He was Kurt.

Never had Blaine ever thought sex could feel this good. Kurt did the most delicious things, pressing into him expertly, kissing him deeply, touching him softly. Blaine felt like he had to do more, he had to give Kurt more because he was giving so much back, but for the life of him he couldn't get his brain to function properly so he just sighed and moaned and dug his nails into the porcelain canvas of Kurt's skin and hoped it was enough. Kurt bit down onto his shoulder, harshly and yet at the same time lovingly marking his skin. Blaine made a noise deep in the back of his throat as he arched his back and ran his hands through the man's gorgeous chestnut hair. He felt the familiar tightening in his abdomen and he was sure Kurt felt it too. They picked up the pace until the only sounds filling the room was the slapping of skin on skin and cries of pleasure.

"Blaine-Blaine-Blaine," Kurt whimpered, he ran his hands down Blaine's body, grasping behind his knees and pulling him closer as his hips shuddered uncontrollably.

Blaine dragged his lip into his mouth and bit down to stop from screaming as he saw white. With his final burst of energy he arched his back so far he thought his spine would snap, he scratched at Kurt's skin and then they both fell atop of each other in a sweaty mess, kissing lazily. They rode out the remains of their highs together before stilling completely.

Even though he pulled out gently, Blaine couldn't help but wince. Kurt kissed him lovingly and rolled off him onto his back.

"That was..." Blaine started.

"Yeah..." Kurt replied, breathing just as harshly as his lover.

Blaine reached between them for Kurt's hand and entwined their fingers, bringing them up to his lips and kissing his palm. Kurt sighed happily and rolled onto his side, throwing his arm over Blaine's chest and kissing the mark he'd left on his shoulder.

* * *

_A/N: So yeah. That happened._

_*Hides in Gollum's cave*_


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: I advise you get on the phone with your dentist because reading this could give you cavities._

* * *

**Chapter 5**

* * *

_Today your barista is: _

_still on a high from the amazing sex last night. _

_For your drink today I recommend: _

_you go bother someone else with your problems because I couldn't give a crap._

* * *

Blaine had lost count of just how many times Kurt had taken him to the edge and back, the last thing he remembered he was biting into a pillow to quiet his moans as the first break of daylight was stubbornly making its way through the curtains adorning the lavish apartment. Soon after that they fell asleep again, curled together in the bigger-than-king-sized bed with the sheets twisted somewhere around their legs.

He woke up slowly, yawning and stretching across the bed, laughing softly to himself as he felt the pain from his ass being quite so used and a flood of images from their night together filled his mind. He vaguely registered the sound of Kurt pottering around in the kitchen which made him smile wider and sink back into the pillows with his eyes closed.

"I think I could get used to this view," Kurt sighed. He leaned against the doorframe, looking like he'd been taken straight from a double page spread of a magazine.

Blaine perked an eye open and smirked as Kurt made his way towards him. He settled down a tray on the bedside table full of fruit, waffles and a large mug of coffee.

"You're not, by any chance, attempting to get me energized, are you?" Blaine asked, savouring a grape as Kurt dipped the bed beside him. "Is that my shirt?" he added when he noticed the white button-down he'd worn the night before begin to ride up on Kurt's pale thighs.

"Maybe," Kurt replied seductively as he bit into a strawberry and dragged his lip into his mouth.

"Mhursergoodchu," Blaine said quickly, trying to keep his head clear – a task that seemed impossible whenever he looked at the other man.

"Sorry, what was that?" Kurt laughed, leaning over to him slowly – Blaine tried to ignore the memories of them in that position the night before.

Blaine cleared his throat. "It looks good on you," he repeated, he tilted his head and met Kurt's lips in a pleasantly chaste kiss. The gesture left Blaine feeling warm. Despite everything they'd already done together it was an intimate moment.

They pulled apart slowly and Kurt gave him a calculating look. "I just... want you to know I don't usually just... I mean this isn't... I mean, this is..."

"No, I know," Blaine assured steadily. "Same."

Kurt pressed their lips together once more and looked up at him through the veil of his eyelashes. "So...?" he probed bashfully.

Blaine raised his shoulder childishly, suddenly too embarrassed to say anything. "I'm no good at this," he laughed awkwardly.

"And I am?" Kurt responded with the same level of amusement.

"Oh come on," said Blaine in disbelief. "You have seen you, right? Like..." he trailed off and made an alluring sound in the back of his throat. "Whereas I'm... You know. I mean, I work in a coffee shop and you... Well I'm still not entirely sure what you do. Probably something awesome-"

Kurt watched his rambling with pleasure before placing a finger over his lips to quiet him. "You're precious. Besides, you can't possible tell me you haven't had conquests," he added seductively, straddling Blaine's waist. "I saw the way everyone looked at you when you played at that bar..."

"I still think someone put you up to all this, I'm half expecting Ashton Kutcher to jump out at any moment..."

"I don't think this episode would be allowed to air," Kurt retorted cheekily, Blaine didn't miss the way his pupils dilated and he stared longingly at his lips. "Now how about we switch things up a bit?" he added as ground down on Blaine, who instantly threw any retort he had out the window and gripped his hips, pulling him close.

* * *

Blaine slid the tremendously heavy door open. He'd spent his entire journey home preparing for the comments and teasings he'd no doubt endure from his roommates. He and Kurt had left things on a bit of an open note when Blaine reluctantly left the apartment, not even really knowing if he'd ever see him again. Maybe it was for the best though, Blaine told himself for the twelfth time that afternoon, because he definitely wasn't any good at relationships and Kurt seemed way too far out of his league.

Blaine shut the door behind him and walked into the empty apartment, instantly collapsing – albeit cautiously – onto the sofa in exhaustion when he jumped straight back up as a loud popping rang right by his ears. Rachel and Sam jumped out from their hidden positions and quickly threw glitter and confetti at Blaine's unimpressed features.

"Congrats on the sex!" they harmonised.

"Are you serious right now?" Blaine deadpanned as he wiped the settled sparkles from his shirt.

"Wait-wait-wait," Rachel said hastily while she skittered to the kitchen and returned a moment later with a cupcake and two lit candles.

Her and Sam shared a meaningful look and began on what they no doubt had spent the night rehearsing:

Blaine had sex – Oh, yes he did.

He won't be uptight now – Oh, heaven forbid.

All he needed was a good lay – It's gonna be a good day.

Although it's quite a cliché... – We just wanna say 'hurray'...

"Hurray!" they finished together; Sam threw another handful of confetti at Blaine at the same time he was forced to blow out the candles by Rachel.

"Gee, thanks guys, I don't know what else to say," Blaine staged.

Sam slapped his arm playfully. "How was it?"

Blaine greedily took a bite into the cake after Rachel took hold of the candles. "I'm not going to lie to you, probably used more lube and condoms last night than I have in the last year."

"Sweet," Rachel praised while Sam looked suitably impressed.

They settled down on the sofa comfortably, Blaine continued to brush away the glitter caught in the thread of his pants. It took him a moment to realise why his roommates had turned uncharacteristically quiet.

"Where did that TV come from?" he asked, placing his palms firmly on his thighs and sitting up.

"Huh?" Rachel questioned, suddenly very interested in the flick of her hair. Sam was equally interested in a peeling corner of paint on the ceiling.

"Sam," Blaine scolded. "Where did that TV come from?"

"It was her idea," Sam broke instantly and pointed at Rachel like a petulant child.

"You wouldn't last a second in a Bond movie!" she spat.

"Please tell me you didn't spend our rent on a television," Blaine whined as he pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head.

"Okay, we didn't spend our rent on a television," Rachel shrugged.

"You did, didn't you!?" Blaine stood up and turned to them in a huff. "Do you guys not understand? You can't keep doing this! We can't keep buying sound systems and expensive bed throws or confetti or televisions! We are going to be homeless. Homeless," he enunciated. He looked between their scolded-puppy faces and let the magnitude of it settle in. "Homeless!" he exasperated again after a moment's pause, making them both jump.

"Okay, okay, we're sorry," Sam said, sounding an awful lot like a child being told off. "We just wanted to, you know... Splurge. Besides, you've got a shift tonight, Rachel's got her rehearsals and I've got a fake date! Couple of weeks and we'll be fine..."

Blaine rolled his eyes, still trying to look authoritative as he worked out the calculations in his mind and remembered, yes–

"You forgot about your shift, didn't you?" Sam said knowingly.

"No," Blaine scoffed, putting his hands on his hips and toeing the floorboards, still housing a grin as he nodded slowly and sprinted out the door.

* * *

His shift was dragging. D-r-a-g-g-i-n-g. More than usual, if that was even possible. He'd cleaned the filters and the grinders and the counters, he'd mopped the kitchen and swept floors, washed the tables, cleaned behind the fridge, stacked the coffee display, _re_stacked the coffee display and finally made sure all the mugs in the cabinet were facing the same direction. Not a single customer. Especially not _the_ single customer, he tried not to appear saddened by that – not that anyone was around to see.

He was contemplating the ways to murder someone with a coffee bean when his phone rang. He picked it up swiftly, expecting it to be Rachel or Sam, even Carl at this point would be entertaining.

"'Lo," he said.

"Hi Blaine," Kurt responded.

Blaine stood up straight, not that his physical composure changed anything. "Hey, hi, hi, hi..." he blurted.

Kurt laughed down the other end, "Hi," he repeated. "Jheez, how are you still so nervous?"

"I'm not nervous," Blaine retorted nervously.

Kurt gave another breathy laugh and God, Blaine wanted to see him again. "I was just calling because... well, I had fun last night. And again this morning. Multiple times." (Blaine swallowed thickly and Kurt continued.) "And I've never really believed in that whole 'three day' thing, so... You know, I've always thought if you want something, get it–"

"Couldn't agree more," Blaine added coolly, effectively stifling the urge to jump to the counters and dance.

"And I thought if there were two people who were both of the same page – _carpe diem _and all that – then maybe they would be inclined to date each other in a less frivolous way."

"I thought I was supposed to be the awful one at this..."

"Hush, you," Kurt's grin could practically be heard down the line. "So what do you say?"

"I say: I'll see you in twenty minutes."

* * *

_A/N: I spend too long laughing at my own jokes, I don't even know if anyone else finds them funny :')_

_Oh dear._

_Sorry it's taken so long to update! I've been so stressed and uni applications and college work and wqfvkrsjbskj no._

_See you soon!_


End file.
